The Night We Became Legends

I was literally running for my life, which wasn't even the most embarrassing part. The most embarrassing part was that I was wearing my lucky baseball socks—the ones with the little embroidered baseballs that I swore brought me good luck during games, but apparently not during illegal operations.

"Dude, hurry UP," Marcus hissed from behind the old oak tree in the Millers' backyard. "This whole spy operation is about to go south."

I skidded to a stop next to him, my chest heaving like I'd just run a marathon instead of, like, half a block. "Bro, I'm here. Also, spy operation? We're literally just looking through someone's window."

"It's called reconnaissance," Marcus said, adjusting his dad's binoculars like he was in some action movie. "And based on my intel, Jessica Martinez is about to post something that changes everything."

This was the thing about Marcus—everything was a mission, every weekend was an operation, and I was somehow always his accomplice. But honestly? I didn't even mind that much. Being his friend meant I wasn't just the quiet kid who sat in the back of algebra class, you know?

Suddenly, their back door flew open.

"BEAR!" someone yelled.

I froze. Like, actually, full-body froze. "There's a BEAR?"

"No, you idiot," Marcus whispered, "it's their dog. His name is Bear. Obviously."

A massive golden retriever bounded out, followed by Jessica's little brother. And then—because the universe apparently hated me—my own dog, Buster, who I'd sworn was sleeping in my room, came tearing around the corner like he'd been part of this whole thing.

"Buster!" I yelled, but it was too late. The dogs were doing that thing where they run in circles and sniff each other and basically announce to everyone within a five-mile radius that something is happening.

Jessica appeared in the doorway, phone in hand, and just stared at us.

"Are you... spying on us?" she asked.

"No," I said, at the exact same time Marcus said, "Yes."

She looked at our baseball socks—me in my lucky ones, Marcus in his team cleates—and then at our two dogs becoming best friends, and then she just started laughing.

"You guys are so weird," she said, but she was still smiling. "Want to come in? We're ordering pizza."

Marcus and I looked at each other. Was this how it happened? Was this how people, like, actually lived?

"Sure," I said, trying to play it cool. "But only if you don't post about the socks."